In Search of Solitude
by Nelsynoo
Summary: A non-canon first meeting between my Inquisitor, Anwen Trevelyan, and Cullen. This happens in Haven, some time before the explosion at the Conclave. Just a fluffy one-shot.


**Note:**

Because I apparently have a flagrant disrespect for canon, Anwen Trevelyan didn't join the Inquisition after the destruction of the Conclave, she had already arrived at Haven many months before, shortly after Cullen joined. I always thought it was weird that everyone trusted the Herald so quickly and gave them so much responsibility. So I thought it made more sense for the Herald to have already been an active, well-liked part of the Inquisition. That way, when the conclave is destroyed, people are more willing to trust her, more reluctant to declare her a criminal.

So here's the story of how Anwen and Cullen met, long before the shenanigans at the conclave.

* * *

The first time Cullen saw her, she was curled up on a barrel near the apothecary, legs tucked awkwardly beneath her, shoulders hunched as she leant over her book. It looked thoroughly uncomfortable, limbs bent at peculiar angles, body held impossibly still so she wouldn't tumble from her narrow perch. But if her position was causing her discomfort, she didn't show it. Her eyes remained fixated on the page in front of her, her mouth curled in a small, private smile. Occasionally her lips would move, silently forming words as if to taste them. It was an oddly endearing sight.

He had heard of her, of course, had her pointed out to him from a distance, even if this was the first time he'd seen her up close. Her arrival had drawn attention; while there were a few mages among their numbers in Haven, certainly not enough for the novelty to have worn off.

The second time he saw her, she was sitting cross-legged on a large rock next to the frozen lake, book once again in hand. She would take momentary pauses from her reading to look out across the lake, admiring perhaps the sheen of sunlight dancing across the ice, or listening to the calls of birds in the tall conifers that lined the waterfront.

The third time, she sat on the wall that surrounded the village, overlooking the practice yard where Cullen was instructing the soldiers. She kicked her feet absent-mindedly against the stone, her face, as always, the very picture of contentment as she read. Her book was perched on her knee, looking as precarious in her lap as she did on top of the wall. It made him nervous, to see her balanced so high up. It would have taken very little, merely a hearty gust of wind, to send her diminutive form toppling down to be dashed on the rocks below.

It was when Cullen found her sitting on the ground, back against the low wall next to the Chantry, shivering despite the cloak she'd wrapped around her shoulders, that he decided to say something.

"Hello," he said, feeling guilty when he noticed her startle.

She peered up at him, looking mostly surprised but also a little bit annoyed at the interruption. Glancing quickly to her left and right, and seeing that there was no one else in the vicinity he could have been talking to, she replied with her own simple, "hello."

"I was just wondering what you were doing here," he continued cautiously. "You look cold and I was thinking that surely it would be better to read indoors."

She smiled then, small and crooked, and he felt surprisingly relieved to see that she wasn't too angered by his interruption. "I share a room with four other women above the tavern," she explained, "it's not an easy environment in which to read."

"Ah – that would explain why I keep seeing you around Haven. Trying to find the ideal reading spot I presume?"

"Exactly!" she said, her smile broadening, "Haven is so busy. Wherever you go, people try to interrupt you."

"Why don't you use my office?" he said before he really realised what he was saying.

She raised her eyebrows, clearly taken aback by the offer. "Really? I wouldn't want to impose."

He felt the back of his neck flush, rubbed at the spot with his hand. Oh _maker_ , what had compelled him to make sure an offer? Cullen liked his solitude, wasn't particularly thrilled with the prospect of having a relative stranger impose on his space. But now that he'd made the offer, he couldn't really take it back without appearing ungallant.

"Of course it's no imposition," he said, chuckling with what he hoped was nonchalance. It sounded a bit unhinged.

Her face looked cautious but pleased and he extended a hand to help her from the cold, hard floor. Once she'd patted herself down to dislodge the snow that had clung to her cloak, he led her into Haven's Chantry and the room that had been set aside for his use as an office. It was small, previously a store room of sorts, with a hastily installed stove that provided meager warmth. A desk dominated most of the room, facing the door so that he could see people when they entered. But in the corner, next to the stove, sat a stout, oddly misshapen armchair.

"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing feebly to the rather forlorn-looking chair.

She turned to him, gave him a toothy grin that lit up her whole face. "Thank you," she said, holding out her hand, "I'm Anwen by the way."

He took her proffered hand, shaking it vigourously and returning her beaming smile with an uncharacteristically broad grin of his own. "I'm Cullen. Feel free to come here whenever you want to read."

He watched as she sidled around his desk before gingerly arranging herself into the snug chair. She sat with her legs bent, knees tucked beneath her chin and feet resting on the edge of the upholstery. It looked profoundly awkward. Once settled, she gave him a nod of thanks, seemingly content even with her body so peculiarly contorted, before burying her head into her book.

Cullen made a show of busying himself at his desk while she read but found himself casting increasingly frequent glances to the corner of the room. Her eyes fluttered rapidly across the pages, her brows furrowed in concentration but also concern. Her face was pinched and she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Whatever she was reading, it must be nearing its dramatic climax. He knew he shouldn't stare, should concentrate on Leliana's report in his hand, but he found himself transfixed with watching her expressive face react to her book. As she continued to turn the pages, her brows unfurled, the tension releasing from her face. Ah, a happy ending then. Her lips fell into an easy smile, crooked and warm.

Cullen thought it a very pretty smile.


End file.
